


tread lightly on my ground

by alittleduck



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Intricate Rituals, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittleduck/pseuds/alittleduck
Summary: But mostly, Dean just closes his eyes and imagines Cas waits at the threshold of the Bunker door for him. Sometimes minutes, sometimes hours. Cas stands there and waits and then, in Dean’s best fantasies, he starts speaking to Cas. Even while there’s a him standing there watching Cas leave, in his head, there’s another Dean who is telling Cas everything that bubbles up in his throat, everything that thumps against his teeth, everything that circles his jaw.Or, in which Dean goes on a date, Cas makes a phone call, and intricate rituals are performed. Set mid-Season 12, no spoilers.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	tread lightly on my ground

Dean likes to go to the kitchen when he can’t sleep. He thinks the floor is hard and the fridge is cool and if he sits there long enough he can almost feel like everything is stopped. 

Cas is gone. He left two days ago and Dean had stayed late in the library doing research. 

Dean doesn’t know where Cas goes. Heaven, he supposes. Cas doesn’t talk about it, though Dean’s asked a few times. Once. Dean's asked about it once. Cas had looked at him like it was obvious. 

So Dean knows now, that sometimes, Cas goes off to Heaven. He also knows that sometimes, he just goes. Sometimes, though, before he leaves, he looks at Dean like he’s waiting for Dean to say something, like Cas doesn’t know how damn much Dean wants him around. Dean doesn’t know what Cas wants from him but he knows, whatever it is, he can’t give it. Dean’s pieces were packed and parceled out long ago and it’s just been pretending ever since. ‘S why he lets Cas go. 

But when he leaves, in the moment before he leaves, Dean closes his eyes and imagines he doesn’t. He likes to imagine all kinds of things happen instead. Sometimes, he imagines Cas staying. Sometimes he imagines Cas sending him that weird look and walking towards Dean -- but then Dean’s imagination jerks him awake. Sometimes, he imagines Cas asking Dean to come with him. 

But mostly, Dean just closes his eyes and imagines Cas waits at the threshold of the Bunker door for him. Sometimes minutes, sometimes hours. Cas stands there and waits and then, in Dean’s best fantasies, he starts speaking to Cas. Even while there’s a him standing there watching Cas leave, in his head, there’s another Dean who is telling Cas everything that bubbles up in his throat, everything that thumps against his teeth, everything that circles his jaw. 

It makes Dean delirious to think about. Makes him feel like he’s unraveling when he’s sitting alone in his room, like he’s compacting when he’s standing and watching Cas on the threshold. Cas is waiting for Dean. He won’t wait forever. Dean wants to speak. Dean tightens and watches Cas leave. He screws it up and slams the door shut behind him. 

And Cas leaves. 

Cas doesn’t like to text because Cas doesn’t often remember he has a phone. Makes sense. He did spend several millennia without them. 

Usually, Cas calls him. Dean’s pretty sure he only does that cause Dean makes him. He never stays on the phone long. Dean’d feel bad about making him check in, but Dean grips the phone so tightly when Cas does calls that he’s starting to wear groves into the side of his phone, so. Cas is going to have to be the one to ask him to stop. 

Dean’s sitting on the kitchen floor. His phone is next to him. It’s just starting to get late. It’s nearly pitch black. Cas didn’t call yesterday, so he might call today. Or tomorrow. 

Dean went on a date earlier but had to leave halfway through. He’d had to pull the impala over just before the Bunker and empty his stomach on the ground. He'd wiped his chin with the back of his hand, gotten back in the impala, and tried to ignore the queasiness. So what. He wasn’t feeling well. 

When he got back home, he made sure to crow to Sammy, who made some sort of snarky comment about Dean scaring this one off in record time. 

Dean grinned lewdly and told Sammy that back alley blowies didn’t take long, not that he’d expect a virgin like him to know that. 

Sam’d been pissed off on behalf of the woman and grossed out on behalf of himself, all of which meant he left well enough alone. 

Dean had gone to his bedroom. He’d gone to bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed and held himself rigid. But even after a few hours, he was still feeling ill. Hot, and ill, and sweaty. So, Dean gets up. His body only shivers a little and the icy chill of the Bunker floor calms him. This is when Dean goes to the kitchen. This is why Dean goes to the kitchen. It’s cold and it’s empty and it’s usually dark enough that if Dean is still enough, it’s like he’s not there at all. 

He doesn't want to sleep yet. It’s better to be awake when Cas calls, not waking up. His stomach is still sloshing around from earlier, so Dean sits on the kitchen floor, against the fridge, instead of at the table. The fridge is stiff and blocky against his back. Dean waits, and lets himself drift. 

It takes him by surprise when his phone finally rings, and he has to scramble to get it open. 

“‘Lo,” he answers. 

“Dean?” Cas’ voice is deeper over the phone. “Hello.” 

Dean lets his head fall backwards. “It’s good to hear your voice, Cas,” he says. “It’s been a while.” 

“It’s been two days, Dean,” Cas tells him. Dean thinks he hears Cas smiling. 

“Yeah, man. Too long.” 

“I have to --”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupts. “Angel business.” 

“Yes,” Cas tells him, like he isn’t sure what Dean is looking for. “I can come home,” he says. 

The pit in Dean’s stomach opens wider, poisoning the blood inside him. His laugh feels dry and humorless. His lips taste cracked when he licks them. Without entirely knowing why, Dean says, “I had a date today.” 

Cas doesn’t say anything. 

Dean swallows. “You would’ve liked her, man.” His voice seems to echo against the walls. “You gotta understand. What it’s like. Women, these women, they throw themselves at you and they smell so good and they really take care of themselves, you know? I mean, I never knew women could be like that, you know? And they’re slipping their room keys right into my hands, different women. She wasn’t like that, though. She was …” Dean trails off. Cas’ll fill in the blanks, he figures. The pit in his stomach kicks at the back of his tongue. 

After a long pause, Cas says, “Dean, I know that’s from Dirty Dancing.” 

“Right,” he says, after the roaring in his ears subsides. He smiles. “Pop culture download. Forgot about that.” 

“Yes,” Cas says. “I did get a “pop culture download” as you say. But I believe you showed me Dirty Dancing yourself.” Cas’ voice is rougher over the phone. “Nobody puts baby in a corner,” he quotes in a voice that is entirely too serious for Dirty Dancing. Dean barely restrains from laughing. 

“Yeah, well,” he says. “Swayze always gets a pass.” 

“Dean,” Cas asks and Dean wants to close his eyes and sink into that moment forever: Cas, suspended in time, sounding close enough to touch, saying Dean’s name like it was something more than it was. In the darkness, Dean can almost believe Cas. “Are you okay?” 

Dean scoffs. “Course I’m okay,” he says. He doesn’t expect Cas to believe him. “I just had a nice suck and fuck in the back alley of that burger joint downtown. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” 

“Suck and fuck?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, mouth flapping ahead of his brain, as per usual. “You know, when you got yourself the right kind of woman. You know, she’s strong and firm and she’s got you nice and tight?” 

“I am unfamiliar with this type of woman.” Cas’ voice is stiff. 

Dean rolls his shoulders, loosening them. “Yeah,” he says agreeably, “you ain’t had much luck there, I’ll back you up on that one.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean snorts. “Don’t thank me for that,” he says. 

“Right,” Cas says, confused, and then Dean hears something rattling on the other end and he thinks this is it, Cas is going to say goodbye and Cas is going to hang up the phone and Dean came to the kitchen and Dean waited and it’s going to end right now. 

“Anyway,” Dean says, before Cas can say anything else. “You gotta get yourself the right kind of woman. You know, the kind that’ll toss you around a bit. If you want a suck and fuck. Thin heels. Small purse. That’s how you know they ain’t afraid to pull you off in public.” 

Dean pauses and listens very carefully for a second, but he can’t even hear Cas breathing on the other end. This is good. This is education shit. Cas needs to know, for when he’s -- Dean shoves that aside. 

“Now,” he says, tracing a finger across the motel magnet at the bottom of the fridge, “the key to a good suck and fuck is timing. You with me, Cas?” 

“No,” Cas says. “I am not with you, Dean. I’m in rural Montana.” 

Dean chuckles. “Timing,” he says. “It’s key, ‘cause you wanna, uh,” Dean pauses, face feeling unexpectedly hot. 

“What do you want, Dean?” He actually sounds curious but he doesn’t mean it that way at all because Cas doesn’t even know how what he just said sounds. Dean presses his fingers tight as he can into the magnet to ground himself before answering. 

The kitchen is completely dark except for the two red lights on the microwave. Dean closes his eyes anyway. “You wanna get your dick wet,” he says. “Shows she’s taking charge, shows she’s choosing when and what. You don’t gotta think at all. Just feeling that hard, gravelly alley at your back. It’s colder than you’d think. Wetter, too, but don’t flinch at that. You just keep it straight up and stay still enough, and then you’re fucking. And it’s slow at first, but she’s already warmed you up and she’s all ready to go.” His eyes fly open. “You let her set the pace, though, Cas,” he impresses on Cas. This bit is important, he isn’t saying. “She got you all ready, but you want to make sure she’s ready too, alright?” 

Cas sounds frustrated. “I believe I am familiar with … following someone else’s pace,” he tells Dean through his shitty four years out of date phone speakers. Yeah, Dean thinks. He supposes Cas is. Meg -- and April -- didn’t really seem like the slow down and talk it out types. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “You like your woman fast. You dog.” He tries to say it like he’s proud but he’s not sure how it all twists out in the end. His voice only shakes a bit, though. He’s made sure of that. 

It doesn’t matter, because Cas just says, “Not really.”

Dean’s head pounds. “Slow’s fine,” he says over his own heartbeat. He clears his throat. “Harder outside, though. Don’t want to get caught. Police -- people -- ain’t very understanding about certain kinds of adult activities. And I suppose they’ve even got a point, but sometimes you don’t have much of a choice.” 

“I understand now,” Cas says and his voice is thoughtful. “It can be easy to regret a choice made in a moment of need.” 

Dean thinks he might throw up again. He leans his head back against the wall behind him. The ceiling of the bunker is endless. He moves the phone down from his ear and puts it on the ground. 

“Dean?” Now Cas’ voice is tinny and faint. 

Dean clears his throat. “Just getting some water.” He doesn’t move. 

“Hydration is important,” Cas says, seriously. 

Dean grunts and brings his knees up to his chest. His jaw is tensed up near completely. He takes as deep a breath as he can manage and then picks the phone back up again. “I’m back,” he says. 

With his eyes closed, Dean can imagine Cas smiling at him fondly. “I should let you go,” Cas tells him, dispelling the image. Dean tries to say something else, but his teeth are pressed together too tightly. Dean pushes against the bottom on his jaw with his thumb and breathes through his nose. 

When Cas’ speaks again, his voice is deeper. Dean is just starting to massage his jaw back open. “Thank you for explaining the suck and fuck,” he says, politely. Bones rattle inside Dean. Even his toes are hit with the faint tremors. 

Dean forces the words out. One burst, “No problem,” then another, “man.” His arms shake against the phone. 

Cas hangs up. Dean doesn’t open his eyes. 

Sam, in the morning, makes a comment about Dean keeping his drinking to his room that Dean readily agrees to. He keeps his phone in his pocket in case Cas calls back again, but he doesn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh, this is, uh, an unusual one from me. it's actually my first time writing in present tense in like a decade, haha. anyway, let me know if this one is a hit or miss or come say hi at monalisssasandmadhatters on tumblr!


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